Before Calvin could react, Baxter caught him flush on the jaw with hard metal, dislodging the goggles. Calvin was stunned for a moment, but he was able to shake that off before receiving another blow from the butt of Baxter’s pistol to the bridge of his nose. He instinctively reached for his nose as his eyes watered.
The taste of warm, metallic blood brought him back to his football days. Adrenaline kicked in—no thinking. He heard a new clip snap into the gun pointed at his head.
From the dark, he heard, “Goodbye, Calvin Watters.”
But Calvin swung his body. The bullet hit his right shoulder, where the sleeveless bulletproof vest did not cover, and pain erupted. He rolled into Baxter, dropping the hit man to the floor. Calvin gritted his teeth, got into a three-point stance and exploded off his feet, barreling into Baxter’s midsection.
He heard the gun hit the floor, followed by Baxter’s night goggles. Now both men were blind. Feeling in the dark, Calvin landed a solid punch to Baxter’s throat and the two men wrestled.
Baxter went after Calvin’s bad knee with a swinging kick but missed.
Then the lights to the entire workshop came on.
For the first time they looked at each other and both saw their guns at the same time. Both men dove for their weapon.
Calvin, half a second faster, aimed and fired. The bullet hit with precision where he had wanted it to—mid-upper thigh—but hit a major artery and exploded, blowing Baxter’s leg off at the femur bone. Enormous clumps of thigh, blood and tissue hit the walls, ceiling and floor. Baxter fell to the floor, grabbing at the open wound and screaming. But he still attempted to crawl to his weapon.
Calvin rose to his feet and kicked the weapon away. Baxter stopped squirming and rolled onto his back, staring up into Calvin’s eyes.
Blood leaked from Baxter’s cut lip when he spoke. “Finish it!” He said, barely audible from the blood and spit in his mouth.
Baxter rose into a one-knee seated position, moving toward the weapon that hung at Calvin’s side. Baxter pressed his head into the muzzle of the gun.
“Hold the gun like a man!”
Calvin nudged the gun against Baxter’s temple. He struggled to stay conscious from the mind-numbing pain. His eyes burned, his nose stung and his shoulder throbbed.
Then he heard a voice.
Chapter 38
“The bullet was a clean in and out.”
Dale was jolted awake by a soft hand shaking his shoulder. He had fallen asleep in an awkward position, scrunched up, legs hanging over the arm of an open-armed, fully upholstered hospital chair bolted to the floor. A nurse stood over him, holding a clipboard to sign. The Las Vegas cops were picking up Watters’ medical expenses—somehow. There would have to be some accounting magic for that one.
“No problems?”
“Nope.”
Dale got up and wiped sleep from his eyes. He took the pen and signed on the dotted line.
“Is he awake?”
“Room 314.”
He headed down the hall. He paused outside room 314 and stretched, his back muscles were in a tight ball. He opened his cell phone.
“Jimmy, Watters is awake.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Not yet, I’m just going in now.”
“I’ve been thinking about this all night. Do you think we did the right thing?”
“I don’t know. I understood Watters’ logic. He got us Baxter. We would have caught him sooner or later, but Watters took a lot of chances, even if he had his own interests in mind.”
“Okay. But he’s still a leg breaker too, somebody who has got to enjoy that work. Don’t forget that,” said Jimmy.
“Where are you now?”
“I’m just leaving the house. Tina cooked me Sunday breakfast.”
“I’ll meet you back at the office.”
“What about Rachel?”
“Tell her Watters is okay. But I think we should keep her where she is. There’s no telling what the pushback might be now that we have Baxter in custody. Whoever hired him could counterattack. She’s safe where she is.”
Dale hung up.
He stood outside and looked through the small glass-paned section of the door at Watters lying in the hospital bed. He saw the face of a hero and was all the more grateful that Watters had survived. He hoped that Watters could see some of Dale’s admiration, because saying directly what he thought and felt would only embarrass the man.
He knew, from what Watters had told him, that he was an expert marksman, but he also knew that Watters had never shot at anything but paper targets.
In case someone was looking for Baxter, Dale used false names and told the medical staff at the ER to keep Watters’ and Baxter’s admissions quiet.
After a light rap on the door, he stepped inside. The fetid smell of sanitizer and unwashed bed sheets greeted Dale. Watters’ head had been propped up on two pillows, but his eyes weren’t all the way open.
“Detective Dayton, I recognize you from the Vegas website.”
“Calvin Watters.” Dale smiled. “The man with the plan.”
They shook hands.
“How long have I been out?”
“Just the night.” Dale pulled a chair close to the bed. “How do you feel?”
“Like I got hit by a bus. How’s Rachel?”
“She’s in a safe house, like we agreed. When you feel up to it, I’ll bring her in, but I don’t think the timing is right, yet.”
Watters nodded.
“You scared the hell out of us, Calvin. When we heard the gunshots, we took off in a sprint. I’m glad you had given us the layout of the workshop so I knew where to find the generator, but when you weren’t in the computer room, I thought the worst. When we found you upstairs, it looked like World War III. We were lucky Baxter didn’t die, even with the tourniquet I put on. Thank God we had the paramedics on standby.”
“Thanks for staying by my side. You weren’t the only one scared.”
“You’re in better shape than Baxter.”
“How is he?”
“He’s alive. I don’t suppose there’s too much work for a one-legged assassin.”
Watters grimaced. “Sorry, I wanted him in better shape to stand trial.”
“Don’t be sorry. You did what you had to do.” After a few minutes of awkward silence, he asked. “So why’d you do it? Why’d you leave the computer room? That wasn’t part of the plan.”
Watters tried to sit up. Dale helped him into a partial seated position.
“I had to have him. I had to win. That’s the truth.”
“So how did you do that?”
Watters smiled. “I know it’s corny. But I tackled that motherfucker like I was back playing ball.”
“You really pulled my ass out of the fire, Calvin.”
Watters’ smile broadened. “No offense, but you know I did it to save myself too. I had to save Rachel and get information about the murders.”
A nurse entered. They were going to prep Watters for tests on any hidden damage.
When Watters was done, Dale returned to the room where the doctor was addressing the patient. “I’ve seen worse—a slight concussion, a couple of head wounds, a cut above your right eye and on your left cheekbone. Your eye will swell up some. We didn’t stitch up the bullet wound for fear of infection. The bullet had a clean exit. We’ll change the bandages every couple of hours to make sure it’s clean and dry. Your shoulder will require some therapy, but you should regain a hundred percent mobility. The nurse will be in with your painkillers.”
As if on cue, the door opened and a short, pretty nurse walked in holding a tiny white envelope.
She slipped in between the bed and doctor, shook out three pills and set them on the bedside table. “This is Naproxen, 375mg per pill. Take one every 4-6 hours and don’t take more than five a day.”